Page 41 of Daddy's Dirty Little Secret

I’d sent a half a dozen messages to her already asking her to reach out, but she’d said nothing. Any other time, she’d have been in my office with her panties down waiting, and thinking that only made me feel like the sleazeball I was. Who in his right mind would ask a woman to have sex with him whenever he wanted and think emotions wouldn’t get mixed up in it?

I went back to my office, closed the door a little harder than I meant to, and dropped into the chair behind my desk.

The screen was still up from earlier—some report I’d been picking at all morning—but the numbers didn’t mean anything now. I scrolled through two paragraphs of data before realizing I hadn’t read a single line. My mind kept drifting, circling the same thing over and over. Where the hell was she?

I minimized the window and grabbed my phone from the corner of the desk. There were three unread emails, one flagged report, and a calendar invite I didn’t remember accepting. I ignored all of it. I opened my messages and scrolled until her name appeared. There were already four unanswered texts from earlier in the week. A simpleHey, you good?on Tuesday. Another one on Wednesday—Need to talk. Call when you can.Nothing back.

I stared at the blinking cursor for too long before I allowed myself to send yet another message.

Xander: 8:23 AM:Where are you? What’s going on? Are you coming back to work?

I hit send and watched the message go through.

Then I started another one. Deleted it. Typed it again.

Xander: 8:27 AM:I need you.

It didn’t sound like me, not even in my head. It sounded like something I wouldn’t say unless I was drunk or dying. ButI stared at it, thumb hovering over the screen, and I knew if I didn’t send it now, I never would. I sent it.

It sat there on the screen, blue bubble, no reply. I waited. I kept waiting, telling myself she was just busy, or maybe asleep, or out. But she always had her phone on her. Always.

I tossed the phone face down on the desk and leaned back in my chair, rubbing my hands over my face. My palms were cold.

I didn’t know what I wanted her to say. I just wanted to know she was there. I’d told myself, from the beginning, that this wasn’t anything serious. That it didn’t have to be complicated. But it was. It had been for a while. She didn’t feel like something casual anymore. She hadn’t for a long time, and I’d been lying to myself about how often I looked for her in the office, or how much I liked hearing her laugh when she forgot to be careful around me. That message wasn’t just me checking in. It was me giving something away. And she wasn’t responding.

I picked up the phone and checked it again, throwing out another fast message.

Xander: 8:39 AM:Please just let me know you’re okay.

No dots. No read receipt. Just silence.

Eventually, I set it beside the keyboard and turned back to the screen, trying to shake it off. There was work to do. Reports piling up. People waiting on decisions. I opened the file I’d meant to finish earlier, the same one I’d been pretending to care about for the past hour. The numbers looked the same. The language was just as dry. I scrolled halfway through it, not taking in a word, then clicked out of it again.

An alert popped up in the corner of the screen—a new email. My eyes flicked to it automatically.

The subject line was simple—ordinary.

From: Amelia Johnson

Sent: 8:41 AM

Subject: Resignation

At first, it didn’t register. The personal address threw me—one I hadn’t seen since the early months, back when we were still keeping things casual, when she sent over project notes late at night and always followed up with a sarcastic emoji. I stared at the screen, my hand frozen on the mouse.

I clicked.

Dear Mr. Blackwell,

I am writing to formally tender my resignation from my position, effective immediately. I have ensured that all of my current assignments are either completed or appropriately delegated, and I have collected all of my personal belongings. There is no need for further contact regarding my departure.

I would like to take this opportunity to express my appreciation for the time I spent with the organization. The experience has been valuable in expanding my skills, and I am grateful for the trust and responsibility I was given during my tenure. I will carry the lessons learned here into my future endeavors.

Please consider this letter my final communication regarding my role. I wish you and the team continued success.

Sincerely,

Amelia Johnson

I read it once, then again, slower. My stomach dropped halfway through the second reading and didn’t stop. There was no explanation. No softness. Nothing to suggest she’d even hesitated. She was gone. Just like that.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen like maybe it would change if I waited long enough. But the words stayed exactly the same. Clinical. Final.

She hadn’t told me. Not when I asked where she was. Not when I said I needed her. I thought that message meant something, that maybe it would shift something in her, open adoor that had been stuck halfway shut. But she hadn’t even read it. She’d already decided.

I sat there, barely breathing. There was no anger in me, not yet. Just a slow, growing weight in my chest, like something was being lowered into it, one brick at a time. I thought I had more time. I thought this wasn’t over. She didn’t feel like something temporary anymore, not in the way she used to. I didn’t even notice when that changed, not really, but it had. And I had no idea what to do with the way it hurt to realize I might never see her again.

I hadn’t said how I felt. I hadn’t figured out how to say it. I wasn’t even sure I fully understood it until now.

But she was already gone. And I was in love.

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